


After Plans Fail

by cosmiccrumbs



Category: Shameless (US), The Fosters (TV 2013)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Drinking, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Harm, Stitches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8988337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmiccrumbs/pseuds/cosmiccrumbs
Summary: After Brandon has his Julliard acceptance withdrawn, he becomes depressed.  Lou finds him a gig playing with a band in the Chicago area.  Between gigs he starts experimenting with drugs and sleeping around.  One night, Lip finds him while he’s messed up and brings him home.





	1. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end for more specifics on the warnings that apply to this chapter.

“C’mon kid, time to get out of here,” the middle aged man said swinging his arm around the younger man’s waist. His other hand gently caressed his cheek. From a few feet away, Lip watched the interaction as he smoked a cigarette, eyes fixed with curiosity. As he had originally watched the two traipse across the parking lot after the bar had closed, he had assumed the older man to be the kid's father, but their interactions were not indicating a familial relationship. As the older man slipped his hand down the front of younger guy's pants, he dropped the butt and stubbed it out.

“I don’t think I really want to,” the kid said weakly, trying to pull away from the man. “My friends…” He couldn’t seem to get his thoughts together enough to finish the thought.

"The other guys in that so called band of yours? All you do is make a lot of noise at these things," the older man teased back unkindly. He adjusted his grip in the kid's trousers, making the boy grimace. "They left your hours ago. No one else is going to take you home. If you come with me, you'll have a warm bed tonight and food tomorrow morning."

"But I... I don't..." the boy said, losing his thoughts again and crinkling his forward when the rights words wouldn't come to him in the right order.

Memories of brief conversations with Ian of what had occasionally happened to him when he got too messed up while working at Fairy Tales sprang to mind. “Hey there!” Lip shouted from across the parking lot, raising his hand as he jogged over, finally deciding he needed to intervene. “Thanks for finding my friend. We’ve been looking for him for like an hour.”

“Oh? Really?” the older man said, aggravated that his plans were getting interrupted and clearly not believing a word out of Lip's mouth. “Then what’s his name?”

“Um?”

“Yeah that’s what I thought. Why don’t you get out of here and mind your own business?”

“I don’t want to go,” the kid slurred, again trying to pull away from the older man.

“I think he’s made himself pretty clear,” Lip said firmly, reaching for the boy.

“Yeah, whatever, you can have fun with him then,” the older guy said shoving the boy away. Unable to keep his balance, the boy tripped over his own feet and fell into a pile of slush.

“Asshole,” Lip muttered as the guy got into his car and peeled out of the parking lot. Turning to the kid in the slush he squatted down. “Hey you got a phone? Or someone I can call?”

“Just wanna sleep,” the kid slurred not moving.

“Well you can’t sleep in the parking lot of a bar,” Lip said, grabbing the kid and hauling him to his feet. As he patted the kid down looking for his phone, he asked, “What’s your name kid?”

“Slim Shady.”

“Ha ha, really funny,” Lip said pulling the phone out of the kid’s jacket triumphantly. “Gimme your thumb.” He maneuvered the kids hand to unlock the phone and immediately went to the contact list – looking for parents or another ICE contact. Most of the contacts didn’t have real names and just said things like ‘do not call.’ Finally, he found one called Mom and one called Mama. With a shrug, Lip randomly picked one and called it.

“Hello?” a feminine voice said on the other end.

“Hey, I found this guy in the parking lot of a bar and you’re listed as Mom in his phone if you want to come get him?”

“Where are you?”

“This bar on Main Street.”

“Chicago?”

“Yes?”

“His mom and I are in San Diego, in California. He’s drunk isn’t he?” The disappointment was clear in her voice, but Lip couldn't detect a hint of surprise.

“Yeah, drunk,” Lip said, deciding it probably wasn’t a good idea to worry the mothers that lived half way across the country that their son had been roofied because an old guy had been trying to have some fun.

“Do you think you could get him somewhere safe for the night? It would mean so much.”

“Um, yeah, I guess. Can’t leave the guy in a snow bank,” Lip said awkwardly while readjusting his grip on the kid.

“Thank you so –” The woman was cut off due to the phone dying.

“Well then, time to get you home,” Lip said to the boy, shoving the dead cell back into his coat pocket. He readjusted his grip on the boy and began dragging him towards his  
house.

The house was quiet when they finally got there, everyone else asleep. "Easy now," Lip said standing in the front of the couch and helping the boy to sit and lie down. He weakly attempted to kick his wet sneakers off before Lip sighed and undid the laces for him. "Need water or anything?"

"Nnnn."

"Great answer," Lip said sarcastically, shoving a throw pillow under the other guy's head, throwing a blanket over him and making sure he was on his side in case he vomited during the night. Deciding the kid was knocked out at this point, Lip kicked off his own shoes by the door and went up to his bedroom. He pulled his clothes off before crashing onto his bed, pulling a blanket over him and briefly considered again why he had to intervene and make this kid his problem.

The next morning, Lip found a box of chocolate cereal in the fridge, a mostly clean bowl, and the last dredges of milk in the fridge to throw together for breakfast. He was leaning against the kitchen counter eating, still half asleep when Fiona came in before doing a double take over her shoulder. The boy that Lip had deposited on the couch last night was still in the exact same position.

“Who is that guy sleeping on our couch?”

“Didn’t catch his name,” Lip mumbled through a mouthful of cereal.

“You brought a stranger home without even asking his name?” Fiona asked, aghast, but still digging around the cupboard for her own breakfast.

“He said it was Slim Shady. I’m pretty sure his drink had been spiked at the bar and this creepy old guy was trying to get him into his car. So,” Lip finished, gesturing with his spoon towards the living room. "Kid didn't seem to be into the old dude."

“Maybe it was his dad or something. Kid doesn’t even look old enough to be in a bar,” Fiona said, finally giving up on breakfast and deciding to make coffee instead.

“Dude had his hand down the kid’s pants. He could barely stand up. What if it’d been Ian?” Lip asked.

“What about me?” the red head asked he also came into the kitchen. “There’s a boy on our couch. Are you being a cougar now Fiona?”

“No, Lip brought him home.”

“Dude, when’d you start playing for my team?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Lip said, clanking his bowl into the sink. “Some creepy, old man was trying to take him home and the guy was definitely not in his right mind. Drunk and probably drugged too.”

“Well he’s probably going to have a massive hangover. If he pukes, it’s your responsibility Lip,” Fiona said, treating the kid like a stray dog that had been brought home as she made a cup of coffee.

“Why not just call someone from his phone to come get him?” Ian asked, taking the pot from Fiona and pouring his own cup of coffee.

“I did. Had a ‘Mom’ and a ‘Mama’ in his phone. Lesbians. His family is in San Diego and hasn’t heard much from him for a couple months now. Rest of the names said things like ‘asshole’ or ‘never call’ and one that said, ‘if you’re thinking of calling this number, kill yourself instead’.”

“And his moms didn’t give you his name?”

“Phone died before they got a chance to.”

A groan started emanating from the living room couch. Lip grabbed a cup and filled it was tap water before making his way out the living room. “Morning.”

The guy on the couch scrubbed a hand over his eyes before squinting at Lip. “Ugh, yeah, I’m awake.”

“Thought you might want some water,” Lip said setting the glass down on the coffee table before sitting down in the arm chair. “You were pretty messed up last night.”

The guy sat up and grabbed the glass and started chugging the water, attempting to slake the desert that had taken up residence at the back of his throat overnight. “Slow down, you’re going to make yourself sick.”

When Lip’s advice wasn’t headed, the guy finished the tall glass of water before slamming the glass down. He briefly looked sick before leaning forward, head between his legs and throwing up water and stomach acid on the carpet. “Oh my god,” he said, wiping his mouth. “I’m so sorry. Let me clean that up.” He attempted standing up but a wave of dizziness had him hitting the couch before he managed to take one step.

“It’s fine. Not the first time this carpet has seen hangover vomit,” Fiona said coming into the living room and handing a roll of paper towel to Lip. With a roll of his eyes, Lip started unwinding some to soak up the watery vomit. “What’s your name?”

“Uh, Brandon. I’m sorry about crashing here. Just give me a couple minutes and I’ll get out of here,” he said, worry clear in his voice.  
With a laugh, Ian said, “Yeah okay. You couldn’t even stand up without falling over.”

Lip gathered the soiled paper towel and the glass before going to the kitchen to dispose of the paper and refill the glass. He headed back into the living room and handed Brandon the glass and said, “Slower this time. Baby sips. I’m only cleaning up your vomit once.”

“Sorry,” Brandon said, clutching the glass with both hands, head hanging so his bangs fell in his face. “Uh, if you don’t mind be asking, how’d I get here?”  
Lip, Fiona and Ian exchanged uncomfortable glances before Lip broke the news. “You were really fucked up last night. I think someone slipped something into your drink. This skeevy old guy was trying to take you home. I called your ICE contact in your phone and promised your moms I’d make sure you stayed somewhere safe for the night. Your phone’s dead now, but I’d be expecting a phone call from them – they sounded really worried.”

Brandon nodded his head lightly and took a small sip of water. He was missing the soreness in his lower half that usually followed a black out night. He briefly remembered an older man purchasing him a drink after his band had played their set. He'd been fairly drunk and had had a little Adderall in his system while they were playing. He remembered thinking the one mixed drink the guy had bought him should not have gotten him that messed up. He was so stupid for not going to the bar with the guy to watch the drink get made and directly take it from the bartender like he normally did, instead helping the band to put equipment away. He should have realized the drink was spiked when he started drinking it. "Thanks for, you know," Brandon said awkwardly, briefly glancing up at Lip before taking another sip.

"No problem man," Lip said.

An awkward silence fell with no one being sure what to say. Finally, Fiona stood, saying, "Well, I have to get to work, but Lip has the day off. Feel free to sleep some more, or take a shower. You got some vomit on your socks by the way." She made her way up the stairs without a glance back to get ready for work.

"Uh, yeah, here let me show you to my room," Lip said standing up. Brandon carefully slipped his socks off, turning them inside out to keep the vomit away.

"What should I do with these?" Brandon asked glancing at where Lip stood at the bottom of the stairs.

"If you go throw them in the washer in the kitchen, I'll wash them while you sleep."

Brandon quickly shuffled into the kitchen, pulling his coat more tightly around him and firmly tugging his sleeves down as he located the washer. There were damp clothes in it already so he moved them to the empty dryer, started it, and deposited his dirty socks in the washer. He quickly shuffled out and up the stairs that he presumed Lip had disappeared up. He found Lip in his room shaking his blankets out and kicking dirty laundry and stray objects under the bed.

"I'm not much of one for a neat and tidy bedroom," Lip said running a hand through his curls. He couldn't remember ever cleaning his room to impress a girl and here he was feeling a bit sheepish about his messy room for this strange boy he was just trying to be nice too.

"It's fine. After a life time of being forced to maintain a clean house, the mess is a nice change. Makes a place seem more lived in and real," Brandon said thinking about the times his moms had frantically cleaned house before home visits from social workers.

"Well I'll get out of your hair. I'll leave a change of clothes and towel in the bathroom down the hall for when you wake up." With that Lip quickly made his escape back downstairs.

He heard the dryer running and assumed Brandon must have been so kind as to have done that. He put some soap in the washer and started it before heading to the fridge for a beer. He plopped on the couch as he popped the twist cap off and flicked the TV on with the remote from the table and took a large swig trying to forget about Brandon, figuring he would sleep at least until the dryer was done.

Brandon slid the door closed after he was sure Brandon was downstairs before taking his phone out of his pocket and trying to turn it on. Right. Dead. He slid it back into his pocket before taking his jacket off and lying it on the end of the bed. He wiggled out of his jeans and laid them out before crawling into bed and closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He felt like he could sleep for hours more and felt a bit bad for infringing on this family he didn't know. He didn't have long to dwell on it as sleep claimed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for attempted rape via getting someone drunk and drugging them without consent.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end for more specifics on the warnings that apply to this chapter.

Brandon awoke to a small red headed girl screaming at the top of her lungs in the doorway. He quickly sat up in confusion, looking around trying to determine where he was. 

“Debby, Debby, what’s wrong?” Ian asked in a worried tone of voice as he came running up the stairs.

“There’s a stranger in Lip’s bed!” Debby yelled, pointing an offended finger at Brandon, Lip also appearing in the doorway.

“It’s okay Debby, he’s my… friend,” Lip said, quickly filling in the blanks. “He just needed somewhere to crash.”

“He isn’t going to rob us?”

“No, of course not,” Ian insisted, looking at Brandon as he said it, look conveying that if Brandon even so much as attempted to take anything that wasn't his, or wasn't offered to him, that there would be a steep price to pay.

“Alright, alright, quit scaring the guy,” Lip said shuffling his siblings away from the door as he slipped in and shut it. “Sorry about Debby. She’s, well, she’s Debby.” Lip laughed a bit with fondness for his younger sister.

“I’ve got a younger sister too. I’m sure she would have done the same thing if she found you in my bed,” Brandon said, a smile also slipping onto his face as he thought of Mariana.

The two boys’ eyes met for a few long moments before Lip bustled over to the dresser and began digging through it to find some clothes for Brandon. Biting his lip, Brandon considered an appropriate way to thank Lip for what he had done - rescuing him and then letting him sleep in his bed.

With his mind made up, Brandon quietly rose and moved over to where Lip was. “Woah there,” Lip explained, turning around, clothes in hand, almost slamming into Brandon. “Got you some clothes for after your shower.”

“Thanks,” Brandon said, trying to pitch his voice low and sultry. He looked up from under his eye lashes, trying to gauge Lip’s response as he quickly dropped to his knees, hands moving towards Lip’s pants.

“What the fuck?” Lip asked, moving back against the dresser, clothes falling to the floor and knobs digging into his spine, not enough room to maneuver away from Brandon.

“Just trying to say thank you, you know?” Brandon said, getting the button of Lip’s pants undone before his wrists were grabbed.

“Take the clothes, and go take a shower,” Lip said firmly, gently pushing Brandon away as he went to the closed bedroom door and quickly left, mind unable to process what the fuck had just happened.

Brandon forlornly looked at the open door, nails digging into his palms as he clenched his fists. He gathered up the fallen clothes, and grabbed his own jacket before heading over to the bathroom.

It took a little fanangling, but he figured out how to turn the shower on. While waiting for the water to heat up, he stripped and rummaged through the inner pocket of his coat, finding the Altoids tin he was looking for. Flipping it open, he grabbed the razor blade and hopped in the shower and placed it on the edge.

Surveying the products, Brandon quickly used the cheap, store brand items to wash his hair and body, letting the warm water soothe the muscles in his shoulders. Finally, he picked up the razor. He stared at his scarred and cut up forearm, trying to decide the best place to put a few new ones. Mind made up, he quickly brought the razor blade to his arm twice, blood immediately pooling as Brandon hissed with the sharp sting of pain.

He carefully considered the dropping blood and made a few more cuts before rinsing the razor and setting it to the side. He carefully rinsed his arm before flipping the shower off and stepping out. Firmly pressing toilet paper to his forearm had the bleeding slowing as the cuts clotted. After hiding the bloody toilet paper under some of the other trash in the small trash can, Brandon grabbed the towel Lip had left for him and dried his hair and body, careful not to get blood on it before wrapping it around his waist and observing the bags under his eyes in the mirror.

“Hi,” a small voice said from the bathroom doorway. Brandon gasped and pulled his towel tightly around his waist and pulled his arm in close to his body.

“Liam, buddy, that’s not polite,” Lip said scooping up the toddler and swinging him around before gently pushing him towards the stairs. “Sorry about him, doesn’t really understand personal boundaries.”

“It’s fine,” Brandon gritted out, dropping his arm to his side without thinking.

“Your arm? Dude, really?” Lip teased, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ll go grab you some bandages. Debby kept turning Liam into a mummy with them so they’re in my bedroom.” He walked away and when Brandon didn’t immediately follow, he turned gesturing for him to follow.

Brandon hesitated for another moment before following Lip the few feet to his bedroom. The red headed boy from earlier was on one bed and Lip went to his bedside table and pulled a shoe box with a variety of medical supplies out. Brandon tried to turn his arm to hide the damage, but Ian had already seen. “Man, you too?” Ian asked.

“Uh,” Brandon said speechless, never having been questioned about the marks gouged into his skin. Lip tossed the box on his bed and lit up a cigarette.

Ian pulled his shirt up a bit and pushed the waistband on his pants down some revealing a ladder of white scars on his hip before letting everything fall back into place.

Lip patted the bed next to him and Brandon dutifully sat, holding his left arm out towards Lip. He was still waiting for the judgement to fall on him and for Ian and Lip to start lecturing him about how stupid he was being. “This is going to sting like a bitch,” Lip said around his cigarette as he poured hydrogen peroxide on a cotton ball and started dabbing at Brandon’s arm, watching as the blood and peroxide bubbled as they reacted together.

Brandon gritted his teeth together. “You know, rubbing alcohol hurts a lot less,” Brandon remarked.

“‘Pain’s part of the game,’” Ian said, like he was quoting someone.

Lip set the cotton ball aside and placed some white gauze over the cuts before wrapping medical bandaging around it. As he worked, Brandon noticed the pale scars that dotted and criss crossed Lip’s forearms. Lip finished off with a piece of medical tape and said, “Good as new.”

Brandon sat there a moment longer before realizing he was still in just a towel and hurried back to the bathroom where Lip had left him some clothes. He cringed a bit about the short sleeved shirt showing off the bandages wrapped around his arm, but figured it didn’t matter. He was so confused about how flippant the two brothers were about their self-harm scars. As he changed, he best considered how to approach the situation and how to phrase his questions. Once he was done changing and headed back to the boys’ bedroom, his eloquent words went out of his head and he just blurted out, “You guys cut yourselves?”

Lip and Ian exchanged a look before Ian said, “I don’t anymore.“ He reached out for a puff of Lip’s cigarette.

“Uh, sometimes,” Lip said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal, trying to forget about the fresh pattern he had carved into the top of thigh that was still stinging slightly.

“Why?” Brandon asked incredulously. He knew it wasn’t exactly a healthy, or normal thing to cut yourself on purpose.

“Started off as a dare as kids, something to just do, you know?” Ian said casually. “I grew out of it around middle school.”

“And I didn’t,” Lip said. It was like they were talking about a bad habit, or a childish hobby that one brother had given up and the other still clung to.

“Don’t your parents care?” Brandon asked. Lip’s scars after all must have been fresh cuts at one time or another.

“Mom’s been in and out of our lives since we were kids, Dad’s drunk all the time. Although, remember that time we scared the shit out of Fiona?” Ian asked, smiling almost fondly at the memory while Brandon looked aghast.

Lip caught Brandon’s look and said, “It’s not like it’s any worse than getting wasted or high or fucking some random girl.”

“Or guy,” Ian intoned.

“I can leave as soon as my clothes are done,,” Brandon suddenly said feeling self conscious wearing someone else’s clothes.

“Gonna be a couple hours. Have another show tonight?” Lip asked.

“No, but I’m sure the guys are texting me. Got a charger?” Brandon pulled the dead phone out of his pocket so they could see what kind he’d need.

Ian gestured at his bedside table and Brandon walked over and plugged it in, starting until the screen flashed to life and started booting up. “What kind of show are you in?” Ian asked, scooching over on the bed so Brandon could sit next to his phone.

“I play keyboard in a band. It’s called Black Bones.”

“Emo enough?” Ian said.

“I didn’t pick it. I’m just filling in while their other keyboardist is in rehab. My friend from back home knows the drummer,” Brandon said defensively. He honestly thought the music sucked, the band sucked, and their style sucked, but it was better than staying at home with the disappointed faces of his moms and siblings staring at him all day. It was easier to cover his depression out here with booze, drugs, and sex than it was while living at home.

Brandon’s phone finally turned all the way on and started rapidly buzzing with texts and voicemail. “You called my mom?” Brandon said annoyed, looking up at Lip.

Lip shrugged. “You were about to get taken home by a creep and you were super fucked up. I told her you were kind of drunk, not that you were acting like you were drugged or anything. You were prepared to sleep in the snow. Was hoping someone would come pick you up. Instead I promised your mom I’d bring you home.”

Brandon closed his eyes and took a deep breath before tapping through a few menus and holding his phone to his ear while it rang. “Hey mom,” he said once the other end was answered. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” 

He listened while his mother lectured him on the dangers of underaged drinking and how she wanted him to be more careful and call home more frequently because they were all worried about him. “Sorry mom, I got to go get ready for practice. Bye.” He immediately hung up without letting his mom get another word in. “Well there, she knows I’m not dead at least.”

“Why’d you run away from home anyway?” Ian asked.

“I didn’t.”

“You’re talking to an expert at running away from his problems here,” Ian insisted. The look Brandon gave him prompted him to explain. “I stole Lip’s identity while I was underage and joined the military and attempted to steal a helicopter.”

“I doubt what you did can top that,” Lip said.

With a shrug, Brandon said, “Took the SAT for someone else to make some money and got caught. Juilliard revoked my acceptance.”

“Hey me too!” Lip said over cheerfully, trying to keep Brandon from dwelling on his mistake as a dark look came over his face. “Well, not the Juilliard part.”

“It was all I ever wanted, and I threw it away over a couple hundred dollars.” Brand gripped his arm over the bandage, digging his fingers in to send spikes of pain up his arm.

“Hate to sound like an ass, but you can’t change the past, so get over it.”

“What I think my brother is trying to say,” Ian butted in with, “Is that you can’t change what has happened so focus on making the future better.”

“That’s really fucking optimistic.”

“You think of one good thing coming up, close or far, as simple as eating ice cream, and you tell yourself, ‘You just have to make it you that point.’ And once you make it there, you pick another thing in the future,” Ian said. “That’s gotten me through some really shit times.”

“What a load of horse shit,” Lip said with an eye roll. “Life is shit man, just keep looking forward to the next thing that makes you feel good.”

Brandon pursed his lips and fiddled with his phone, uncomfortable with the idea of looking forward to the next pleasant thing. Ian presented the idea with a healthy spin, while Brandon felt Lip’s “good things” were more along the lines of cigarettes, sex, and booze. “I have a gig in a couple days if you two and your sister want to come,” Brandon said. “I can get you in for free, get you some free beer.” He was trying to come up with a way to thank the Gallagher’s, especially Lip, for helping him out last night and today.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Lip said with a smirk. “The next good thing.”

 

Brandon was outside the back entrance of the bar smoking a cigarette, huddled in on himself as much as possible because he left his coat inside and couldn’t be bothered to go back and get it, when Lip, Ian, and Fiona showed up. He had a popped an Adderall before the band set up and he was buzzing with energy now from the drug and the three shots he had already done. “Hey,” Brandon said, nodding his head at the Gallagher’s. “Let me just finish this and we can go inside.”

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Ian said casually, remembering him and Lip sharing cigarettes while Brandon watched and said nothing about it. He was surprised Brandon hadn’t tried to bum one off of them.

“Just sometimes,” Brandon said. The Adderall gave him too much energy, it made him want to do everything. “Fits with the whole guy-in-a-band image.” He gave a short bit of laughter as he dropped the butt and crushed it with his heel to make sure it was out, grinding it into the slush.

The floor of the bar was sticky as they walked through the cramped hallway before emerging into the customer part of the bar. The lights were already dim, a few people milling around. One wall had the bar and directly opposite that was where a small stage with the band’s gear had been set up. There were tables spread throughout the area. “We play in about half an hour, well if Alex, our lead singer, actually shows up,” Brandon said, rambling. He felt like he should be annoyed about it, but with the pleasant buzz he had going he couldn’t care. He stepped over to the bar where a bartender had poured him a pitcher when he saw him come in and put some plastic cups next to. Brandon grabbed both the pitcher and cups before heading over to one of the empty tables that had a good view of the stage. “Drink up.”

Ian started pouring everyone a cup while Fiona and Lip shrugged out of their jackets. “What kind of music is this?” Fiona asked.

“Kind of rock, punk, emo, grunge?” Brandon shrugged. “It’s shit to be honest. But the free booze is a perk.”

Fiona laughed. “Cheers to that,” she said as they clinked plastic cups before each taking a deep drink. “Hard to argue with free beer.”

After shooting the breeze for a while, Brandon much chattier than the afternoon in Lip and Ian’s bedroom, a guy in a beanie with a plaid shirt on, sleeves rolled to elbow, stalked over to the table. “Hey Brandon, this your new girlfriend?” he asked with a wink at Fiona. The bar had started to fill up and they were all leaning in close to hear each other over the cacophony.

“Fuck off Alex,” Brandon said, poison in his tone. “Time to warm up?”

“Duh,” Alex said rolling his eyes and walking off to the stage, grabbing his guitar and throwing the strap over his head.

“Bartender knows you’re with me. Free pitchers all night and two shots each,” Brandon said with a grin after chugging the beer left in his cup. “We’re only playing part of the night. There’s another band playing at midnight.”

The music was trash, Lip decided, but the booze was free and Brandon played well and had a good voice for the backup vocals. The crowd in the bar mostly ignored the band playing, rowdy and engaged in their own conversations. After about an hour and a half, Black Bones was finished playing.

Brandon scampered over to the Gallagher’s table, immediately taking the shot of vodka Lip had ready for him. As Brandon grimaced, Ian and Fiona let out hearty laugh. “Alright, alright,” Brandon said, “I just have to help pack up the gear then we can stay for the other band or get the hell out of here.”

“You were pretty good,” Fiona said with a smile. “Can the singer be any more whiny though?”

Brandon laughed again. “Should hear him when he has a hangover in the morning. He cannot hold his liquor.” With a shake of his head, Brandon turned away and headed back to the stage to pack up his keyboard, carefully winding the cords and putting them where they belonged. He helped lug their own speaker out to the van as well.

While outside, Brandon pulled a baggie from his pocket and dry swallowed another half an Adderall before pulling his cigarette pack from his back pocket and lighting up. Inhaling a breath of smoke, cigarette lightly clenched between his lips, he touched the hot metal of the lighter to the thin skin of his inner right wrist. He smiled and coughed a bit as he breathed the smoke out and slipped the lighter back in his pocket. He was running high from the mix of drugs, alcohol, and the endorphins of performing and burning himself. Now all he needed was to find someone to go home with. Sleeping on Alex’s couch sucked, and he couldn’t impose another night on the Gallagher’s.

He dropped the cigarette butt and ground it into the slush with the heel of his shoe. He headed back inside, the cold finally starting to get to him through the thinness of his shirt. The rest of the band had a table together near the stage, drinking and talking while the next band set up. Brandon bypassed them in favor of rejoining the Gallagher’s.

Fiona raised her plastic cups to her lip and finished chugging her beer. “This is the last of the free booze. How’s everyone feeling? I’m drunk.”

“Pretty fucking buzzed,” Lip said while Ian nodded in agreement. “Need a cigarette.”

“I’m amazing,” Brandon said, biting his lip to keep from elaborating on that. Adderall made him feel like he was on a cloud, but he also had a hard time shutting up.

“There’s a club a few blocks over. Probably no cover since it’s a weekday,” Fiona said, grinning at the three boys. The tequila shots she’d had earlier making her want to dance.

“Hell yes!” Brandon exclaimed, deciding that was the best plan he had ever heard. It would probably be easier to pick someone up at the club than this particular bar anyway. Also, his bandmates really didn’t need to know about his plans to fuck someone - anyone - just for the chance to sleep in an actual, warm, bed.

The chairs screeched as the pushed them back, throwing coats on as they headed to the door, a few crumpled dollar bills left scattered on the table as a tip. The group laughed, joked, and shared a couple cigarettes as they headed over to the club. There was only a short line because it was a weekday, and no cover just as Fiona had predicted. As soon as they were inside, the found a booth along one of the walls to dump their coats at before heading over to the bar for drinks. Each with a drink in hand, Fiona coaxed the boys over to the dance floor.

As he danced, Brandon began scoping out the place, looking for a possible target to make his escape with. He was usually looking for someone middle aged, normally on the wrong side of attractive. Sure enough, there was a man matching that description sitting at the bar. Brandon caught the man’s eyes, a smirk on his lips as he continued dancing. He waited a couple songs, before downing his drink and excusing himself from the Gallagher’s to head back to the bar with the excuse of needing another drink.

As soon as he was there, a bartender placed a fruity looking cocktail in front of him commenting, “Courtesy of the gentleman at the other end.” The bartender nodded his head in the direction of the man Brandon had made eye contact with. Brandon raised his drink, and while making eye contact wrapped his lips around the straw. Just as Brandon was preparing to head down to the other end of the bar, Lip collided with the bar, blocking Brandon’s eye contact with the man.

“What’s up?” Brandon asked, faking innocence. 

“Are you actually interested in that crusty old guy?” Lip asked, leaning against the bar and sipping his beer while Brandon gawked slightly, surprised at having been so easily found out. He quickly sipped the drink “crusty old guy” had bought him and made eyes at the man on the other end of the bar, not wanting Lip to crush his chances of going home with the man.

Brandon kind of shrugged and tried to play it off. “Free booze,” he said with a smile.

“You know, just a few nights ago when you got free booze, you were roofied,” Lip casually dropped, briefly making eye contact with Brandon.

“I would have been fine,” Brandon said, quickly looking away from Lip and trying to hide the stab of fear in his gut, vaguely remember the feeling of being out of control and not really knowing what was happening around of him.

“You would have been raped,” Lip casually said before taking a long sip from his drink while Brandon mulled that over.

Brandon turned his body to Lip, cocked his head to the side and steadfastly said, “Fuck you. I know what I’m doing.” He turned on his heel and walked towards the man that had bought him the drink, smile on his lips and a swing in his hips.

As Brandon reached the older man, Ian and Fiona had arrived at the bar. “What’s Brandon doing?” Ian asked, gesturing to the bartender for another beer for him and Fiona.

“Probably getting himself into the same mess he was in last night,” Lip said with a shrug.

“Oh, god, I know about guys like that,” Fiona said, her eyes going wide. “One of you need to go over there and get him - pretend to be his boyfriend or something.”

“He told me to fuck off,” Lip said at the same time Ian said, “Not it,” gesturing to the bartender to get another drink of himself.

“Lip. Please,” Fiona said, gently touching Lip’s arm.

“Alright fine! But if he punches me, this is your fault,” Lip said, pointing at Fiona as he swung away from the bar with the drink that the bartender set down that was intended for Ian. Lip took a big chug as he made his way over to Brandon and older man. “Hey there babe,” Lip said with a smirk, throwing his free arm around Brandon’s waist and resting his chin on Brandon’s shoulder.

“Uhhhh?” Brandon stuttered as Lip planted a kiss on his neck.

“We’re about to head home. Time to say bye to your friend,” Lip said, nodding towards the older man.

“Oh come on, the night’s still young. Let me buy you both a drink,” the guy said already raising a hand to gesture the bartender over, while the other grabbed Brandon’s wrist that was set on the bar.

Brandon would never be able to say what made him agree with Lip that night. All he knew was that a sudden dread filled him as the man clenched his wrist hard enough to grind the bones and leave a bruise. “Yeah, I’m going to leave now,” Brandon said, trying to pull his wrist away.

“Oh no, I know you want to stay,” the old man insisted, desperately clinging to Brandon’s wrist.

“Hey, he said he wants to go,” Lip said sternly. “Let him go. Now.”

“Who the fuck are you anyway?” Brandon managed to wrench his wrist out of his grip and stand, taking a few steps away.

“His boyfriend,” Lip said, flipping the old man off as he spun, wrapped his arm around Brandon’s waist and walked back towards Fiona and Ian who both has strange looks on their face.

Brandon was rubbing at his wrist when Fiona asked, “Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine.” Brandon was sullen. Secretly, he was relieved he wouldn’t be fucking the man, but also disappointed that’d he have to go sleep on Alex’s crappy couch again.

“We should go home,” Ian said, looking over to the old man who was stalking angrily towards the group. They started moving towards the door and managed to make it outside. Unfortunately, the old man did catch up.

“Have fun with the whore,” the old man said, shoving past the group as he made his way to the parking lot. “I’ve caught him blowing guys in the bathroom before - how I knew he was a slut for it.”

Brandon’s face turned red as Fiona yelled, “Yeah fuck off asshole!” Ian grabbed Fiona’s forearm and dragged her in the opposite direction of the older man, Lip and Brandon following.

“What the hell was his problem?” Fiona asked after a few silent blocks.

Brandon chewed his lip for a moment before saying, “He didn’t lie. It’s nice sleeping in a warm bed sometimes. It’s why I tried to, you know, the other…” 

Fiona hummed, not fully understanding Brandon but able to put enough pieces together. Only Lip understood what Brandon meant by that last bit. This boy was triggering all of Fiona's big sister instincts and need to care for people. “Well, you’re sleeping at our place tonight - no arguing - we have the room."

"That's very kind of you, but you don't need to do that for me," Brandon insisted, turning his head away.

"Nope you're moving in. It's crowded, but rent's cheap, and we're way more fun to hang out with than douches in the band," Fiona said, nodding firmly to herself before throwing an arm around Brandon's shoulders. "So, what do you say?"

All Brandon could do was nod his head in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for self-harm.


	3. Chapter 3

“I think I wanna fuck him,” Lip blurted out. Lip and Ian were sitting on Ian’s bed passing a joint back and forth while Brandon was at a gig. He’d been staying with the Gallagher’s for about two months. The warm blanket of smoke made Lip feel safe enough to admit his feelings to his brother.

“So you are playing for my team now!” Lip gave Ian a shove who fell over laughing. “Man I could have told you that you wanted to fuck him. Seriously, there has been so much eye sex going on between the two of you!”

“I still like girls. And no there has not been eye sex going on!”

“Trust me, if I have to catch one of you checking the other out one more time, I’m going to just shove the two of you in a closet together.”

Silence lay heavy while they each took a pull off the joint. 

“Brandon’s actually checked me out?”

“Yes, he really has. And if you want to fuck him, do it. I’m going to support whatever you want to do man. All this sexual tension in the house is driving me crazy though. ”

“Why do I want to fuck him?” Lip lamented.

“He’s cute, can play piano, can sing, and is kind of fucked up. You’re attracted to things that are kind of fucked up.”

Lip groaned in frustration and flopped over, burying his head in Ian’s pillow. “Feelings suck,” he complained.

“Yeah well, make sure you bring lube with you,” Ian said, stubbing out the end of the blunt. “Need any more pointers?”

Lip turned his head to the side, “Actually, how the hell do you decide who, yah know, does the fucking?”

“Some people have a preference. You know, you don’t actually have to have penetrative sex. You could just have him blow you or jerk eachother off or something,” Ian said, blood rushing to his face. While Ian and Lip had talked about sex before, it had usually been more about Lip’s exploits and less so about how two guys did it.

Lip hummed softly as he mulled over the idea. “So, step one: lube. Step two: do what feels good?”

“Basically,” Ian said with a laugh as he stood, ready to escape the awkward atmosphere. “Google might be your friend too.”

“Yeah, yeah, run away you coward,” Lip taunted, throwing a pillow at Ian as he stepped out the door, yelping when the pillow made contact with his back.

“See if I ever help you again!” he called back, running down the stairs.

 

Lip had decided to attend Brandon’s gig tonight since it was at a bar he liked. The show had been normal, the booze nice. Brandon had just helped finishing packing equipment away and was standing talking to Alex, the douche leader of the band. Alex patted Brandon on the shoulder twice firmly before walking away with the rest of the band. Brandon stood there for a few moments, tense, fists clenched before whirling around and stalking towards the bar where Lip sat sipping on his beer.

“Easy there,” Lip said shoving a shot glass into Brandon’s hand. Brandon immediately downed it before gesturing at the bartender for another. He pounded that shot as well before collapsing on the stool next to Lip and snagging his half empty beer. “Want to tell me what’s got you so pissy?”

“No.” He chugged the rest of Lip’s beer. “I’m leaving.” Brandon stood up and quickly headed towards the back door, snagging his coat. Lip swore under his breath and tossed some money on the bar counter before following. 

They had started walking down the alley, when in a rush, Brandon scooped a broken piece of glass from the ground and shoved his coat sleeve up as much as he could. 

“Brandon, fuck,” Lip said, catching his wrist before he could use the glass on his wrist. “That’s dirty and dull as fuck. You want an infection?”

“Please,” Brandon whined, trying to wrench his wrist away. Lip held on tight. Brandon pulled away again and Lip let go, the piece of glass flying away. Brandon stomped his foot hard in frustration, the pain radiating up his ankle and to his knee.

Lip puffed his cigarette, considering Brandon briefly before reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulling out a small, orange, plastic rectangle. He slipped a folded piece of paper out and held it out to Brandon. He eagerly clutched it, quickly throwing the paper on the ground, accidentally nicking his finger on the sharp edge.

Brandon shoved his jacket sleeve up the best he could, ignoring how numb his fingers were from the cold. In one quick movement, red was welling up to the surface of his skin. Lip watched carefully as Brandon made another slice, a surge of affection and concern filling him as he watched the blood from the two cuts flow together. He let Brandon relish one slow, deep cut followed by a last fast strike before he grabbed Brandon’s left wrist.

His eyes were slightly glazed, and Lip easily took the blade from Brandon and slipped it into his pocket. He unwrapped Brandon’s scarf from his neck before tightly wrapping around his wrist to staunch the flow of blood. “Alright, time to go home and get that properly cleaned up,” Lip said, looping an arm around Brandon’s waist and pulling him close.

Brandon laid his head on Lip’s shoulder. “Thanks for understanding,” he slurred - the pleasure from cutting mixing with the alcohol already in his system.

“What the hell even happened man?”

“They’re replacing me. I’m not even good enough for this shitty ass band,” Brandon choked out, his throat closing up as he tried to fight back tears.

“Fuck them Brandon. You didn’t even like playing with them anyway,” Lip said, trying to be comforting.

“But now what am I supposed to do? This was the only thing I had! I don’t have a job of any kind now! I can’t… I don’t have anywhere to stay anymore… I’m nothing…” Brandon was quickly spiraling as tears leaked from his eyes. He wanted the razor back from Lip to dig into his arms some more. Maybe he could just bleed and bleed until everything was over.

“It’s not the end of the world man. You’re drunk so everything seems a lot worse. Tomorrow morning, you’re going to feel like shit and have a wicked hangover but you’ll make a plan,” Lip insisted, really not wanting to deal with Brandon having a breakdown on the side of the road as they walked home.

Lip really had to work to keep coaxing Brandon along as they walked home. During this time, Lip noticed that the blood from Brandon’s wrist was barely slowing down and was beginning to think giving a drunk and emotionally unstable Brandon a razor blade had been a terrible idea. The normally fifteen minute walk took closer to thirty with how Brandon dragged his feet and both boys were shivering by the time they got home. The scarf wrapped around Brandon’s wrist was mostly soaked through with blood, some dried to Lip’s hand where he had been gripping Brandon’s wrist to staunch the blood flow.

They finally reached the Gallagher home. Fiona turned from where she was scrunched on one end of the couch, watching Discovery Channel with Vee and Kev nestled together on the other end. “Hey Lip, Bran- is he bleeding!?” she exclaimed quickly standing and rushing over to the two shivering boys.

“Yeah,” Lip said, grabbing Fiona’s hand to wrap around Brandon’s bleeding wrist while he shrugged out of his coat and toed his shoes off, running up the stairs to fetch the first aid kit from his bedroom.

Fiona dragged Brandon over to the couch and sat him in the middle. Kev had moved out of the way and Vee was ready to assist with the injury. Lip’s feet clunked on the stairs as Vee instructed Fiona to grab some clean wash clothes. Vee slowly unwrapped the scarf from Brandon’s wrist, trying to not disturb to any scab formation that had occurred. It was inevitable that the clot that had formed on the deepest cuts was ripped off, fresh blood starting to spill.

“How the hell did this happen?” Vee exclaimed, eyes flashing to Lip after taking in the fresh cuts, old healing wounds and scars of varying stages of pink and purple.

“Um, well, you see,” Lip stuttered.

“We don’t have time for that,” Fiona said, snatching the first aid kit from Lip and setting it on the coffee table and opening it. “Does he need stitches?”

“Those two there do,” said Vee pointing at the offending red gashes before grabbing the hand sanitizer Fiona offered then ripping open the nitrile gloves she was handed next. “I need bottled water.”

Kev jumped from his spot in the corner and ran to the kitchen to grab the water, cracking the seal on the way back before handing the bottle to Vee. She quickly poured it over the wounds before taking some gauze Fiona had opened and cleaning the area to better see the wounds. With Fiona’s help, she quickly swabbed some antibiotic ointment on the shallower cuts and taped some gauze over them. 

Throughout this, Brandon seemed dazed, and rather out of it but came back with wince as Vee roughly finished the last of the shallow cuts. “There you are,” Vee breathed out as she noticed Brandon finally paying attention to what was happening to him. “Now this next part is going to hurt like a bitch. You need stitches and I don’t have lidocaine. So it’s either this or a hospital. Pick quick.”

“This,” Brandon stuttered out, fear of the hospital and his moms finding out about what he had done, or getting locked up for being crazy filling his mind. 

Vee nodded seriously and said, “Lip, get over here and hold him down. Kev, you help.”

Kev went to Brandon’s non injured side and grabbed him firmly by the shoulder. Lip did the same while Vee prepped the needle and thread for the sutures. Fiona grabbed his hand to hold it steady. Vee worked quickly, appreciating that Brandon seemed to be trying to hold himself still. Six stitches on one of the cuts, and five on the other later and Vee was finished. Brandon was breathing heavy as he was released, closing his eyes against a wave of nausea from the alcohol and being on the verge of passing out. 

Vee dabbed some antibiotic ointment around the cuts before gathering the bloodied and used materials and taking them to the kitchen to dispose of in the trash. As the rest of them collapsed around the living room, they heard the sink run. The fridge opened and closed and a few cupboards clanked open and closed. Vee reappeared with a glass of apple juice and a packet of graham crackers. “Here,” she said, sitting down next to Brandon and pressing the glass into his hand.

Tentatively, Brandon brought the glass to his lips and carefully took a few sips. “Th-thank you,” he stuttered out, keeping his eyes downcast as he held the cool glass. A silence descended, only broken by the sound of the TV still on in the background and Brandon softly crunching the graham crackers that Vee handed him.

Fiona sat quietly in the armchair, chewing the cuticle on the side of her thumb until it was bleeding. The scene that had just played out, reminded her too much of the time Ian had come running to him, Lip’s blood on his hands. “What… what happened Brandon?” Fiona finally asked, resting her hands in her lap.

Brandon shrugged, embarrassed and not wanting to talk about what happened.

“It’s my fault Fi,” Lip said, looking over at his sister. “Brandon was upset about being kicked out of Black Bones, and I didn’t think he was as fucked up as he was, and I gave him a razor-”

“You gave him a razor!?” Fiona exclaimed, getting to her feet.

“Well it was either that or a broken piece of beer bottle he found in the alley!” Lip shouted back.

“Those aren’t the only two options you know,” Fiona said, more quietly and sitting back down. Silence reigned for a few minutes. “Well, what are you going to do now?”

“I guess pack up and leave,” Brandon sighed. “Maybe go back home. Or keep going east. I’m sure one of the cities has a band that needs a keyboardist.” His entire arm throbbed and was red with irritation from both the cuts and sutures. He gently touched the tip of one finger to the thick end of a suture before wincing and pulling his hand away.

“Leave those alone Brandon,” Vee insisted. “And keep them clean and use this antibiotic ointment. Because if they get infected, I don’t have any antibiotics and then you will have to go to a doctor for them. And don’t pull a stitch.”

“Well you’re not doing anything tonight except sleep. And you can’t go anywhere until those cuts are healed because you’re going to need Vee to take them out if you wanna avoid questions from doctors,” Fiona said leaning towards Brandon. “God, you scared the shit out of me.”

“It was like… that time with Lip,” Kev said, still feeling a little queasy from all the blood and watching his wife stitch Brandon up the same way she stitched up the tears in his shirts.

Lip’s head jerked to Kev and then quickly away with shame, fingers grazing over the scars that had resulted from that time.

“Boys and their razors scaring the shit out of me,” Fiona said, running a hand through her hair.

“W-what, happened?” Brandon asked, enough alcohol and drugs still running through him to be reckless.

Fiona, Kev, and Vee exchanged a look before all turning their gaze to Lip. “You wanna tell him, or me?” Fiona asked.

Lip shrugged and dug a fingernail into the scar tissue on his arm. “I will I guess.” He flopped down on the couch next to Brandon, stealing one of his graham crackers.

“So Ian and I are kids right? And Fiona usually gets stuck watching us, but Debby’s a baby so we get left to our own devices. One summer the electricity got shut off and there was nothing to do. So, we got this idea to fuck around with a box cutter we found. And I nicked my fingers. So we dumped some peroxide on it which burned like a bitch. But I bet Ian I could take the pain without wincing but he’d cry about it. But Ian didn’t have a cut, so he made a little on on his palm. And then it kind of became this game we played for a couple years.” Lip took a deep breath, figuring he should rip off the entire bandaid and tell Brandon about the time he scared Fiona to death. “Except sometimes I played the game alone. After mom left, or when Frank was an extra asshole while drunk. And one time it went too far. I was bleeding a lot, maybe more than your were tonight. Ian walked in on me and he couldn’t get the blood to stop either so he went and got Fiona, who got Vee, who stitched me up, same as you. Fiona put a stop to the game.”

“Wasn’t the last time I stitched you up,” Vee snorted at the same time Fiona said, “But you didn’t quit entirely, now did you?”

“How old were you?” Brandon asked.

“Ten or eleven the first time I got stitches, I think. The game probably started the summer before?” Lip said.

“I started the same night I found out I wouldn’t be going to Julliard. It’s just gotten worse since I’ve come to Chicago,” Brandon admitted, hanging his head before choking out, “It’s starting to scare me.”

“Well that’s more sense than Lip ever had,” Vee said standing up. “C’mon Kev, we should get home and let these three sort this mess out. Call me tomorrow Fiona.” Vee and Kev gathered their jackets and put their shoes on before heading out the door leaving the living room in silence.

“Alright Brandon. You’re going to go to bed tonight. Tomorrow we’ll talk about what your plan is moving forward,” Fiona said with finality standing up. “Can you make it up the stairs by yourself?”

Brandon carefully stood, a wave of dizziness passing over him before settling. He gave a slight nod and headed up the staircase to the boys’ bedroom. Lip made to follow but Fiona caught him by the wrist before sitting down on the couch again with him.

“I think we need to tell his moms and send him back to California,” Fiona said carefully, staring at Lip trying to determine his reaction.

Lip kept his face carefully blank, chewing over the thought of sending Brandon away. “We can’t tell his moms. He’s an adult and he’d never forgive us for that.”

“Lip, this isn’t a mess we can clean up. I have enough trouble keeping an eye on your cutting and taking care of everything else. I don’t think Brandon can take care of himself right now,” Fiona said trying to reason with Lip.

“I’ll think it over, okay?” Lip said before standing up.

“Okay. But give me your razors,” Fiona said looking up at her younger brother. “I know you keep them on you. We can talk about you getting them back once you’ve decided what to do about Brandon.” 

“Oh c’mon Fi. When has taking them ever stopped me?”

“Please Lip. For me,” Fiona pleaded, sticking her hand out to Lip.

With a roll of this eyes Lip produced the plastic orange rectangle, and the razor he had given Brandon that he hadn’t dealt with yet. He slipped it into the back of the rectangle that was for used bladed before petulantly handing it over to Fiona.

“Thank you. You should get some rest now.”

“You too Fi.”

“After I call Vee, I promise.”

Lip nodded and turned away, itching for a cigarette as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Opening the door, Brandon was sitting on the edge of the bed, an anxious look on his face.

“What did Fiona want?” Brandon asked carefully, voice soft to keep from waking Ian and Carl.

“Just to check on me,” Lip said going to the window and cracking it open before pulling out a cigarette and lighting up, carefully blowing smoke outside.

“I’m sorry for being so much trouble,” Brandon said, standing and walking to stand with Lip by the window. He plucked the cigarette from Lip, taking a drag that burned his lungs before handing it back.

Lip snorted. “Trust me, compared to some of the shit this family has done, that was nothing.”

“But I’m not family,” Brandon said seriously, eyes locking with Lip’s, glinting in the streetlights that came through the window.

“You’re right. You’re something else.”

Without breaking eye contact, Brandon slowly leaned in before gently pressing his lips to Lip’s. He waited for the other boy to pull away, but when he didn’t started kissing more firmly. Lip didn’t respond and Brandon pulled away, looking at the floor. Lip took a final drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out on the window sill and flicking the butt out the window. He stepped close to Brandon, reaching out to tilt his chin up before kissing Brandon. The kiss lingered for a few minutes. 

Both boys were tired and soon pulled apart. Jeans were shed and the boys tumbled into Lip’s bed, spreading blankets over themselves. The didn’t cuddle, but that didn’t stop Brandon from pressing himself as close to Lip as he could, desperate for some of affection after the emotional night. Brandon fell asleep first, leaving Lip to ponder what to do about the boy next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for self-harm


End file.
